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It’s been a while since I wrote, yes. Life has been throwing us a few loops around here, but we remain intact and I’ll be damned if we don’t have heart.

Jake and I made the decision last week to give up our precious Murphy, the little, incredible dog who has blessed us with his presence for nine years.

This has been on our minds for a while now, but the final straws came all at once and we knew it was time to act.

Final straw number 1: Seabass recently pushed Murph with his foot and said, “Get out of the way!” I looked down at Seabass and admonished him by saying, “Don’t talk to him like that, son.” I suddenly felt Jake’s eyes boring holes in my head and turned to ask, “What?” to which he replied, “Um, he learned to do that from watching you, Jaime.” Knife+heart=ouch.

We passed him on to a family that has taken wonderful care of him several times for us when we’ve gone on vacation. And if it hadn’t been them, it would have been someone from the extremely long list of people who love and worship Murph. In other words, we’re not worried about Murph. He is doing just fine.

But when I washed his little food and water dishes, packed up his (disgusting, hairy, putrid) bed, and packed his beloved ChuckIt! toy, I felt like I was packing away all of the golden and free years I spent with Murphy and Jake before our children were born. Into that bag went some of my most cherished memories and experiences. Camping in Big Sur and watching Murph run laps with pure joy in a sun-drenched field. Sneaking him into a hostel in San Diego in my purse. Watching his ears flap in the wind from the passenger side of our old Civic. And, sadness of all sadnesses, picking him up from the animal shelter that spring day a million years ago. Oh, how in love with him we were. All of us were, and are.

But it’s a new season, and not necessarily a kinder one. Of course I love my babies with my whole heart, and of course I’m not enduring chemotherapy like my precious mom, or living with the threat of terrorists or civil war like my friends in Kenya.

I’m not the swearing kind, but there’s no other way to say it. It’s so effing hard.

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6 Responses to “It’s so effing hard.”

I miss him already. Not that I’ve seen him much lately. That had to be so hard, but you’re right, probably best. Can you tell your friends that I’ll babysit if they ever need a place for that “little boy in a dog suit” to stay for a weekend?

Oh, so sad!! :( I remember when we first met you guys and Murphy came over and how awesome we thought he was (and is). We had just gotten rid of our cat, Max, and Jake was mortified that we gave him up… sometimes you just have to do what’s best for the animal and all involved, I guess. But yes, it is terribly hard. Hugs! :)

I know what an incredibly emotional decision that must have been for you two to make. I have always been enamored with Murphy’s awesomeness. His new family is fortunate to share their home with that flop-eared fur ball with his throaty rumble as he encourages you to toss the toy for him. I am certain that he is enjoying his daily prance on the beach before he curls up in a ball for his nap. Thank you for thinking of him and making the very tough decision while enriching his new family’s home.

Oh. I am so sad and sorry. We just recently moved (6 weeks now) and our dog just cannot handle the new place. Giving her away is a regular topic, but I just don’t think I can. And I have no one I know who would take her. =/

J, you love Murph and things of the heart are indeed some of the most difficult things EVER! Praying for you as you adjust to life without him and all he represented. We love you and I’m praying for your mama as well! We love you guys!!!